Author's Note:

Thx for all the birthday love last week! As promised ~ the wait is over. Shall we get to it?

Love to my betas! Jennrosee and blahblahblah!

Disclaimer: Oh SM, what have you done to my life...

EPOV

The shrill sound of the alarm clock pierces the silence of my room. With one swift motion, I halt the grating sound with a strike of my fist. I groan and roll to my side, curling around the warm body lying next to me. Bella's back is to me, and I nuzzle my face between her shoulder blades in an attempt to block out the glaring morning sunlight.

"Five more minutes," I grumble.

Sliding my hand over her hip and across her stomach, I tug her shirt up, searching for her soft skin. When the harsh texture of denim brushes against my fingers, I jerk my head up and peel one eye open. Bella is completely dressed. The comfortable sweatpants and sweatshirt I picked out after her bath are gone. At some point during the night, Bella changed into dark jeans and the black and grey plaid shirt I wore two days ago. My shirt swallows her tiny frame. The image is made worse since Bella hasn't bothered to roll up the long sleeves, allowing them to cover her hands like oversized mittens.

My head flops back to the pillow. "Let me guess. You packed everything you own and left nothing for yourself to wear on the plane."

"Do you mind?" she asks. Her voice is small and sad.

Confused, I lift my head again and lean over her slightly to better see her face. Bella doesn't look up; her eyes watch her concealed fingers as they move beneath the shirt sleeve.

"At least take a clean shirt."

Bella shakes her head slightly. "This one smells like you," she says softly.

"Hey, come here." I tug on her hip, forcing her to roll over and face me. She still won't meet my eyes. Instead, she stares at her hand that I'm now holding flat against my chest. "You OK?"

The question hangs in the air for a long moment before Bella answers. "I don't know," she says honestly.

"Did you sleep?"

"Not really."

"What can I do?"

She shakes her head again, the motion causing a strand of hair to fall across her face. I brush it away, leaving my hand resting on her cheek. Bella finally lifts her eyes to mine and studies me for a minute.

"You love me," she whispers, more to herself than me.

"Yes, I do."

"Even when I'm acting like a complete psycho?"

I chuckle. "You're not acting like a psycho, Bella. You had a bad dream. It happens to everyone. Frankly, I'm not surprised you did."

She furrows her brow. "You're not?"

"No. Just look at the week you've had. We had our first fight, and although we've promised to talk about it, it's still looming over our heads. On top of that, there was the drama with your dad trying to make you go back to Phoenix. Of course you're losing sleep with that amount of stress weighing down on you."

Bella looks away again, contemplating my words for a second. "Maybe," she concedes.

"It might be a good thing you're going to Florida. Take a break from all this. You know, get some rest, clear your head and all that."

"Yeah, I guess."

I hate seeing her like this. I would give anything to see the bright, happy smile she wore yesterday at–

"I have something for you," I blurt out impulsively.

Rolling off the bed, I lift my jacket from where it's wrapped around the desk chair and reach into the inside pocket. I retrieve the small, brown paper sack carefully tucked inside. I have folded the bag around Bella's present until it forms a flat, square package.

Bella sits up as I return to the bed, tucking her feet under her body. I crawl across the mattress toward her and place the brown square on her knee. Bella lifts the bag, allowing the folded paper to topple, end over end, until the sack is back to its original form. She reaches inside and pulls out a blue scrap of cardboard with the necklace attached. Dangling from the delicate chain is a tiny, silver starfish.

"Edward, where did you…"

"From the aquarium gift shop. I snuck in there while you were in the bathroom. Do you like it?"

Bella looks up, and I'm rewarded with the sweet smile that has been missing all morning. "I love it. Thank you."

I pull her into my lap, and she leans back against my chest as I rest my chin on her shoulder. "I wanted to get you something, you know, as a reminder of our day, but look at this." I take the necklace from her hand and flip over the card, revealing the inscription on the back.

"The symbol of the starfish," Bella reads aloud. "The starfish is thought to represent safe travel over troubled waters and is also seen as an emblem of salvation during trying times."

I take the card from her and begin to unhook the chain from its holder. "I didn't think anything of it at the time. I just wanted to get you the starfish because, well, you seemed to like that little guy yesterday. I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but then I remembered the symbolism just now, and I thought if it helps you keep the bad dreams away, then…" I shrug.

Finally having freed the necklace from the cardstock, I hold it up in front of Bella, the chain forming a 'v' between my fingers. "May I?"

Bella leans forward slightly as she gathers her hair up and away from her neck. I drape the necklace around her neck and fasten the tiny clasp.

"There," I announce once the necklace is securely in place.

Bella twists in my lap to face me; her hand comes up to toy with the charm where it rests against her collarbone. "Thank you, Edward. It's perfect." She kisses me sweetly.

"You want breakfast before you go?" I ask when she pulls away.

Bella glances at the clock. "Nah, I'll eat at the airport. It'll give me something to do."

"You sure? Aren't you hungry?"

Bella shakes her head as she climbs off my lap, pulling me down next to her on the bed. She curls up alongside me and tugs my arm over her waist as she nuzzles her face into the crook of my neck. "I'm fine. Besides, I'd rather stay just like this for as long as possible."

"That gives you," I twist around to glance at the clock behind me, "twenty-five minutes. Close your eyes and try to sleep. I'll make sure you get up in time."

We snuggle together, curled up on top of the sheets. Bella doesn't sleep; her soft breath across my collarbone never evens out. Her fingers never relax where she grips tightly to my shirt. She shifts her body, restlessly, as if she is trying to pull herself closer even though we are already wound tightly together.

Bella moves her head, brushing her nose up and down my neck twice before gently kissing the curve just below my chin. She continues to place warm, slow kisses along the line of my jaw, following the path toward my ear.

I grip her hip tightly as my eyes roll back in my head. "Bella," I warn through clenched teeth. "What are you doing?"

Her wet lips brush against my earlobe. "Saying goodbye," she whispers seductively.

Her lips trail from my ear to my mouth, and as she kisses me, I allow her to push me onto my back. Bella's free hand slides down my chest to my waist, and she quickly begins to untie the drawstring holding my pants up. For a second, I'm stunned by her hasty assault until I realize that we don't have a lot of time. Without breaking our kiss, I go to work stripping off her jeans and tossing them, along with my pajama pants, to the floor.

Bella doesn't bother removing her – my– shirt before she straddles my lap. I slide my hand up her thighs and under the shirt, gripping her hips tightly as I slowly guide her down and fill her completely. I press my head firmly into the pillow and grit my teeth as Bella begins to move. She gradually lifts and lowers herself along my length, her movements gentle and unhurried.

Without breaking our intimate connection, I roll us over and hold myself above her. I kiss her mouth, her cheek, her temple, and her eyes, memorizing the feel of her skin on my lips. Bella's hand trails down my arm until she reaches my hand, lacing her fingers tightly through mine. We stay that way, tightly wrapped in each other, our bodies joined in every way humanly possible.

"Open your eyes," I command, and leisurely her lids flutter open.

As I stare into her beautiful brown eyes, it hits me. It's just a flash, an instant, but in her eyes I can see my future. And in my future, I see love and happiness. I see friendship and devotion. I see Bella and I together. I see forever.

"I love you," I confess, kissing her as the tremendous surge of emotions washes over me.

Gently, quietly, the limit of our restraint fractures and we tumble over the edge together. However, this time is different. Our eyes stay locked together as the emotion of the moment far outweighs the physical act. We don't cry out, we don't groan or shriek as the sensation courses through us. The only sounds between our heavy breathing are the repeated declarations of love for each other.

I roll to my side, pulling Bella's lips to mine. Feeling overwhelmed by what just passed between us, I kiss her eagerly, again and again, until, reluctantly, Bella begins to pull away.

She sits up slowly and runs her fingers through her disheveled hair. Climbing off the bed, she locates her pants and tugs them on before picking up mine and placing them next to me on the bed with a shy smile. I pull on my pants as Bella sits on the edge of the mattress, her back to me, and slips on her shoes. When she's done, she twists around and leans over to kiss me gently.

"Bye," she whispers as she pulls away. She stands and turns to walk around the bed.

I sit up quickly and swing my legs over the opposite side. Reaching out, I grab Bella as she tries to walk past, pulling her to stand between my legs. I slide my hands under her shirt and around her back as I pull her to me. "Don't go," I beg, smothering my face against her stomach.

Bella grips the hair along my forehead and pulls lightly, forcing me to raise my head. "I tried to get you to come with," she mocks, and bends down to kiss me again.

While I'm distracted by her lips, Bella wiggles out of my grasp. When I lunge for her, she dances out of my reach. I groan and flop back onto the bed, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hands. "OK. All right, you win. Pack me in your suitcase."

Bella giggles. "Bye, Edward."

I shoot off the bed just as she opens the door. Reaching over her head, I slam it shut again. Bella turns around. "Edward, I -"

I cover her mouth with mine, cradling her face with my hands as I press her body against the door. After a moment, Bella grasps my wrists and gently removes them from her face. "I have to go," she says softly. Her hand slips behind her, twists the doorknob, and slowly pulls the door open. I brace myself against the doorframe and allow her to duck under my arm.

"Bye," she whispers, as she slips through the open crack.

She closes the door behind her, and I press my forehead against it. I only give her a two second head-start before I wrench the door open again. Bella is halfway down the hall. She whirls around when she hears me approach.

"Edward!" she hisses, trying to keep her voice low while simultaneously trying not to laugh.

I hold my hands up in surrender. "I'm just going to walk you out. I'll be good, I swear."

I carry her suitcase downstairs and load it into the trunk of the Mercedes. Esme is already in the driver's seat, engine running, chatting on her cell phone. She covers the mouthpiece and leans out the window. "Editor," she whispers. "Give me just a second."

Bella walks around to the passenger's side and tosses her backpack into the backseat. As soon as she shuts the door, I wrap my arms around her waist and hug her gently.

"You have your ticket?" I ask.

"Yes."

"And your phone and your charger?"

"Yes and yes."

"You'll call me every night before you go to sleep?"

"Promise."

"And when you wake up in the morning? And you'll text me, and send me pictures of what you're doing?"

Bella chuckles. "Yes."

I cup her face in my hands and kiss her one last time.

"I love you," she says.

"I love you, too."

I open the passenger door and Bella slips inside. I step back as the car slowly backs down the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires as they move. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I turn and shuffle toward the house, glancing over my shoulder as the engine roars and the car accelerates down the street and disappears.

Just as I reach the porch steps, the front door jerks open.

Shit.

BPOV

After two grueling hours of check points, security screenings, baggage checks, and wandering the terminals of SeaTac International, I'm finally settled in my seat. The plane taxies down the runway and lifts off, leaving Washington state behind. I slump down in my seat, completely exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before.

Last night was horrible. That nightmare rocked me to the core. I've had bad dreams before, in fact, I had them all the time. When I was young, I dreamed of my parents splitting up two months before they told me about the divorce. In high school, I foresaw Charlie getting shot in the leg by a prison escapee the week before it happened. My dreams even predicted I would get the music video long before Jake told me about the open audition. So I knew what I saw last night wasn't really a dream. It was a premonition.

In my nightmare, I saw Edward standing in the distance. I tried to go to him, but with every step I took, he would take two in the opposite direction. I called to him, but he ignored me. I screamed for him, but he didn't bat an eye. Suddenly, he was gone, vanishing into thin air right before my eyes, leaving me alone, deserted, and plummeting into darkness. Nothing but black – black and just… nothing. A sense of finality, ceaselessly and without end, began to suffocate me and I panicked. I opened my mouth to scream again, but my voice was strangled in my throat. I couldn't make a sound.

I woke up with a start, gasping for air, unable to breathe. The walls of the bedroom began closing in around me, so I ran. The cold air outside helped open my lungs, and as soon as I was able to control my breathing, I completely fell apart. Something was coming, something that would separate us. Although I didn't know what – time, distance… death – I knew something was going to take him from me, forever.

I collapsed on the cold tile floor of the balcony, my legs giving out under the stress of the emotions rolling off of me. It wasn't the freezing temperatures that caused my body to shiver uncontrollably. It was the knowledge that a permanent, unbreakable end was coming. That realization alone threatened to destroy me. In my dream, I saw no world without Edward. He was a part of me now. How could I survive without him? How could I survive without part of myself?

I drug myself off the floor and into one of the patio chairs. I had managed to regain some of my composure when Edward found me there. Once again, he came to my rescue when I needed him most. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him what I saw, and I was glad when he didn't press me for details.

When I woke up this morning, I considered cancelling my entire trip. The dream continued to linger in my thoughts, and it made me nervous to leave. But he said everything would be ok as he kissed me goodbye, and we promised to talk every night before we went to sleep.

With a deep breath, I pull my iPod from my bag to drown out the roar of the plane engines as I try to drift off for a few hours of much needed sleep.

EPOV

I freeze, one foot planted on the bottom step, as Carlisle glares at me from the open door. Warily, I climb the stairs, suspicious that he might slam the door in my face at any second. He turns to the side, giving me barely enough room to pass through. As I enter the living room, he slams the door behind me.

Pulling my hands from my pockets, I brace myself against the back of the couch. Keeping my back to him I ask calmly, "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough," he seethes, obviously trying to contain the rage in his voice.

Shit. He knows. And he found out in the worst possible way.

I turn around and lean against the back of the couch. Before crossing my arms over my chest, I gesture for him to let me have it. Probably not the smartest move as a furious expression masks his face.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Four months."

Carlisle clenches his teeth and begins to pace between the foyer and the living room. "I should have known you'd pull a stunt like this," he mumbles to himself.

"This isn't a stunt."

"Oh, sure, and I suppose you had nothing to do with her forging her father's signature on those releases either."

I shrug. "Actually, I didn't know about the releases until this week. But if that's what it took for her to get that job, I would have forged the signature myself."

Carlisle shakes his head, staring at me with a look of absolute disgust. I know I'm acting like a condescending ass, but I'm past the point of caring what he thinks.

Carlisle marches toward me, stopping within inches of where I'm standing. "I will not allow this little charade to continue," he thunders, pointing his finger at my face. "You are going to stop this right now! You are going to -"

"No," I say arrogantly.

"Excuse me?"

"No," I repeat, locking eyes with him. "I love her."

"You lo – damn it, Edward! I explicitly told you I did not want you to get involved with her! And now you deliberately go behind my back and -"

"We didn't do it deliberately," I interrupt, "it just happened."

"And you expect me to believe that! After everything you've done! After all you've put us through!"

Carlisle chuckles humorlessly, throwing his arms into the air in frustration as he resumes pacing. "You've felt the need to lie about this for months, and now – now that you're caught, you expect me to take your word that your intentions are honorable?"

Does he seriously think I would do something like that?

"My intentions aren't honorable?" I repeat, anger beginning to slip into my tone.

"You really expect me to believe you're not doing this to get back at me! That this isn't another one of your antics to get under my skin!"

I shove off the couch and step closer to him. "I love her, and she loves me! It has nothing to do with you!"

Carlisle's words come out in a rush. "That girl is my responsibility! She has more than enough to deal with right now, and she doesn't need someone like you dragging her into some sick, twisted game you think you're playing! I will not allow you to toy with her emotions in her condition! I will not allow you corrupt everything she's worked her whole life for!"

"I'm not playing some game! I'm not toying with her emotions, and I haven't corrupted anything!" We are both screaming at each other now, as if the volume of our voices will make each statement more credible.

"Oh, really? He challenges. "You don't think you've done enough damage already? You think offers like that come around every day for her? You think jobs like that are just going to land in her lap for you to pick and chose from?"

"Christ! It was just one video!"

"I'm not talking about the -" Carlisle stops abruptly and turns to face me. He cocks his head to the side, staring at me curiously. "You don't know, do you?" he asks, the tenor of his voice suddenly calm and composed.

"Know what?" I fume.

Carlisle appraises me for a moment. "I'll bet there are quite a few things Bella hasn't told you," he mumbles.

"Fuck you! You don't know her."

"And clearly neither do you."

I shake my head. "We're done here." I turn and walk toward the stairs.

"Bella received a very prestigious job offer yesterday," he calls, trying to bait me, "a lead choreography position. It's exactly what she's been working toward; a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Great, I'm sure she'll be very excited," I grumble as I walk away.

"She turned it down."

I freeze just as I reach the staircase. Suspiciously, I turn my head and glare at him over my shoulder.

Carlisle walks slowly around the couch and sits down. "I got a call from Victoria James yesterday," he begins, clearly reveling in the fact he has my attention again. "Victoria is the lead instructor in contemporary dance at Washington Academy of Performing Arts. She's Bella's advisor."

"I know who she is," I say, annoyance evident in my tone.

"Victoria tried to contact Bella all day yesterday, and when she couldn't reach her, she called me."

I turn around and stand at the base of the stairs. "Bella was with me."

"I see." Carlisle ponders my admission for a moment before he continues. "Victoria was informed that Bella had declined the offer. She wanted to speak to her to find out exactly why she rejected the job. She couldn't figure out why Bella would walk away from such a huge opportunity." Carlisle gives me a pointed look. "But now I think I'm starting to understand."

It isn't a question, but I answer anyway. "You think she turned it down because of me."

"It was an immediate opening. She would have left at the close of the semester, right before Christmas. She wouldn't be coming back."

"But she's not finished with school," I challenge.

"Bella has all the requirements she needs to graduate right now. She's only taking elective courses to fulfill the academic requirements of her scholarship." A smug expression spreads across Carlisle's face. "Did you not know that either?" he asks sarcastically.

I glare at him.

"Her whole purpose in being here," he continues, "is to prepare for and find a career. That's why it surprised everyone that she rejected this offer."

Slowly, I walk to the opposite end of the couch and sit down. Leaning forward, I hold my head in my hands, my fingers threaded tightly through my hair. "I'll talk to her. I'll call her tonight. I'll tell her to take the job."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. They've moved on to other candidates by now. She burned that bridge when she turned them down yesterday morning."

My memory flashes to Bella on the phone while she was packing; the clips of the conversation I heard, her skipping a day of rehearsals, the whole scene now starting to make sense. We are both silent for several minutes before Carlisle speaks again.

"What's done is done, but I cannot allow this so-called relationship to continue. I will not allow you to damage her future any further."

"I didn't know about the fucking job!" I yell, reaching my breaking point. "I didn't ask her to stay! I would have told her to accept it! I would have told her to go!"

Despite my outburst, Carlisle's voice remains smooth and calm. "That's not what I'm talking about." Confused, I turn my head to look at him.

"I would venture to guess that Bella has no knowledge of your drug addiction or your criminal record, does she?"

I don't answer, looking down at the floor instead.

"That's what I thought," he answers smugly.

"After your accident, when you were charged, Esme was still in negotiations for her book, the one that was just published. Some of her editors got wind of your… indiscretions. You know we had to pull some very expensive strings to keep you out of jail, but that wasn't entirely for your benefit. In fact, a little time in a detention center might have been good for you."

I stare defiantly at him.

"But we had to conceal the incident from the public. We had to ensure that Esme's publishers never learned of your transgressions. They wouldn't have allowed her book to be published if they knew her son had the capacity to cause some type of scandal."

I lean forward and bury my face in my hands again. I feel sick. "I didn't know that," I mumble.

"We didn't tell you. After the accident, we wanted you to concentrate on getting well."

"So why are you telling me this now?"

"You need to understand that your actions don't just affect you, they can impact everyone around you." I feel Carlisle shift in the seat next to me, but I don't look up as I process what he's saying.

"We concealed your offenses as best we could, but that information will not stay buried forever. Regardless of what's on paper, you've established quite a reputation for yourself. If Bella were to involve herself with you, you could damage her chances at the life she's worked so hard to obtain."

I twist my head in my hands and look at him. Carlisle leans forward as he begins to explain. "Bella is poised to become one of the greatest dancers in the country, but she's not the only one. There are very few, highly coveted positions at the top of her arena. She's not going to land one of those spots on her skills alone. Everything about her will be taken into consideration: her family, her personal life, her… associates are all factors. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I don't answer.

"We are known by the company we keep," he quotes.

I laugh. I actually laugh out loud.

Fuck me. All those months ago, I thought being with Bella might actually work to my benefit. Back then I thought I could use her to sway Carlisle into thinking I'm good, that I'm worthy of someone like her. "Virtuous by association." Those were my exact words. And even though I didn't go through with it how I initially intended, my stupid, stupid, plan worked. Only it completely backfired. I didn't improve my standings by being with Bella; I tore her down.

I laugh again at the fucking irony of the whole situation.

"I'm glad this amuses you," Carlisle grumbles sarcastically.

"Well, what did you expect, huh?" I snap, sitting up straight and looking directly at him. "You tell me I'm toxic. You tell me I could have destroyed Esme's career. You tell me I have the potential to destroy the only person I've ever cared about. What do you want from me, huh? You want me to say I'm sorry? You want me to grovel and beg for forgiveness. Well, I'm sorry! I'm fucking sorry, alright! I can't go back and do it over. I can't go back and change anything. I fucked up! I royally fucked up! I know that! You beat me over the head with it. You remind me of it every fucking day! I have tried. I have really tried to make up for my mistakes. I have tried to prove myself to you. I have tried to be your son. But it's never going to be good enough, is it? You're never going to see past it, are you? Well, I'm done! I'm finished. I don't give a shit about what you think of me. I don't give a shit if you forgive me or not. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not -"

"Edward, Edward, stop." He cuts off my rant, and I slump forward again, holding my head in my hands.

Carlisle lets out a deep breath. We are both silent for so long, I start to wonder who will get up and storm off first. But when Carlisle finally speaks again, his tone is calm and regretful. "I'm sorry. I was a bit too callous just now. I was angry and I lashed out at you." He chuckles, humorlessly. "You'd think we'd learn to control our tempers by now. We've given each other enough practice."

I continue to stare at the floor between my feet, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge his obvious attempt to lighten the tension.

Carlisle sighs again. "I've gone about this all wrong, but you needed to hear it. I need you to understand that there is a valid reason why I told you not to get involved with Bella. I wasn't doing it to be cruel."

"Whatever," I grumble.

I could feel his eyes on me, and from the changes in his tone, I know he's struggling to get through to me.

"And since you brought it up, let me just say the changes in your behavior have not gone unnoticed. Lately, I have seen vast improvements, but you must realize it will take time for me to trust you again… and for you to trust me as well."

My eyes snap to his, surprised by his last statement.

Carlisle moves to sit on the coffee table directly in front of me, our knees almost touching. "Esme told me what you said," he admits. "I never gave up on you, son. I never thought you were the worst decision I ever made. I was hurt to learn that you believed those things, but I've been thinking about it, and I can see how you might have come to that conclusion."

I look away, unnerved by the turn our conversation has taken, but Carlisle leans into my line of sight, forcing me to meet his eyes. "I know Esme talked to you about this, but I think you should hear it from me."

He takes another deep breath. "Before the accident," he begins, "I knew you were in trouble. I knew you were headed down a dangerous path. But I couldn't figure out how to get through to you. You just continued to defy me at every turn. The more I pushed, the more you pulled away. I was frustrated and angry, and I let that dominate my interactions with you, to the point I couldn't see past my resentment anymore. I let my irritation blind me, and I couldn't see that you were getting in deeper - until I was too late."

I shake my head. "Esme told me you felt guilty about the accident. That wasn't your fault. You didn't know what I was doing. It's not like you ever saw me when I was high."

"Yes I did," he contests, staring at me incredulously. "My God, you don't remember do you?"

"Remember what?"

"The night of the accident," he clarifies. He continues to stare at me as if that statement would trigger some memory. I shake my head slightly.

"You came home after curfew. I was waiting to confront you when you walked in. You were acting very strange. It only took me a second to figure out you were on something, and when I questioned you about it, you flew into a rage. You were completely out of control."

"I don't remember that."

"As you would expect, we argued, and in heat of the moment I - I told you to leave and never come back."

Carlisle shakes his head as he looks away. "I will regret that moment for the rest of my life," he says softly.

I stare at him, the anguish and remorse evident on his face.

"I should have never let you get in that car. But I did. You walked out the door, got in your car, and drove away. The police called thirty minutes later to tell us you had been in an accident. They told us to prepare ourselves for the worst."

Carlisle sets his jaw, obviously distressed by the memory of that night.

"I don't remember any of that," I confess.

"I'm glad. I was tormented with the thought that those were my last words to you. They were spoken in anger. I didn't mean what I said."

I nod slowly, my mind reeling from his confession.

"You and I, we have a lot of damage to repair, but we will get there. I do see that you have been making an effort to change your behavior, but as I said, it's going to take some time for me to trust you again."

"I guess I can understand that."

"In return, I'm going to ask that you trust that I'm acting in Bella's best interest when I tell you not to continue this relationship with her."

"No," I state, adamantly. "I won't… I can't – I can't hurt her."

"But do you see that by being with her you could be hurting her even more? Hurting her chances at the life she's always wanted? Destroying everything she's worked for?"

He's right, and I know it. I had known it months ago. She deserves so much more - more than me, more that what I can offer. I could offer her nothing – nothing but the destruction of everything she had worked and sacrificed her entire life for, nothing but the complete annihilation of all of her goals and ambitions.

I lean forward, covering my eyes with the heel of my hands. "I just want her to be happy."

"So you see why I cannot allow this to continue? You understand your past offenses could harm Bella's future? This is your punishment to bear, not hers. Surely you recognize that."

I feel my chest tighten as I hang my head, defeated. "What do you want me to do?" I whisper.

"You need to end this. Put a stop to it before it gets too far."

It's already gone too far. I love her. She loves me. How much further can it get?

"I'm not sure how," I confess, overwhelmed by the crushing realization of what I have to do.

"Well, Bella is gone for a week. Take this time to think, really think. I believe you'll come around to seeing it's for the best."

I don't respond as Carlisle stands and walks out of the room, leaving me devastated and completely destroyed in his wake.

BPOV

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Jacksonville International. Local time, 5:25 p.m. Please remain seated until the captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign. We know you have a choice when selecting airlines, and we thank you for flying Delta."

Lugging my backpack into my lap, I retrieve my phone and switch it on. The nun across the aisle frowns at me, but I ignore her. No messages, no texts.

Just landed. Slept most of flight. Call u when I get 2 moms ~ B

The airport is especially crowded with holiday travelers, but I make it to baggage claim and find my bright pink suitcase, and my overly excited mother, without incident.

The house in Jacksonville hasn't changed much since the last time I visited. I had been with Charlie for two years when Phil, my step-dad, signed with one of the minor league baseball teams here. Soon after, he and Renee sold the RV and bought a small, two-bedroom townhouse a few blocks from the beach.

The guest bedroom - my bedroom for the next week - is a monument to all of Renee's failed hobbies, and I snap a few pictures to show Edward, proof that I wasn't making up those stories at dinner the other night. I smile to myself as I remember his beautiful, carefree laugh.

Even though my body is still on west coast time, I'm exhausted from the trip, and I crawl into bed before ten. I turn off the lights and snuggle into the unfamiliar bed as I dial Edward's number. I close my eyes, hoping the sound of his voice will trick my mind into imagining he's lying here with me.

The phone rings repeatedly, and then his voicemail picks up. There's no greeting, just an obnoxiously loud beep. I hang up without leaving a message.

I wait five minutes then try again, but by the fifth ring I'm certain he's not going to answer. Just as I remove the phone from my ear to hang up, I hear him.

"Hey."

"Hey there! I didn't think you were going to pickup."

He lets out a deep breath. "Sorry about that."

"It's OK. So I made it to Jacksonville in one piece. Did you get my text?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, the airport was really packed, and my connection out of Houston left ten minutes late, but whatever. My mom was so excited to see me, and she's got this whole agenda planned for the entire week. It looks like I'm going to need a vacation from my vacation."

"That's great."

Something about his voice isn't right. "You OK?" I ask. "You don't sound like yourself."

"Yeah. I just… it's been a long day."

"Yeah. I'm pretty worn out too. It's only ten here, and I'm in bed already. I had to call and tell you goodnight, just like I promised."

I expect him to beg me to stay on the phone and talk longer, but instead he whispers, "good night, Bella."

"Oh, well, good night, Edward. Call me in the morning when you get up, OK?"

"Sure."

"Bye. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Bye." And he hangs up.

"Love you, too." I grumble to the dead air.

The next morning, Renee and I lounge on the beach and soak up the warm Florida sun. Even in November it's still a balmy eighty degrees here, but it feels hotter with the unfamiliar sun beating down on my pristine skin. After lunch, Renee drags me to a local scuba shop where, unbeknownst to me, she has signed us up for an afternoon of snorkeling.

My mom is a sucker for these tourist-trap excursions, but she hasn't been able to convince Phil to do them. Apparently, I'm the lucky guinea pig that gets to go with her. I pretend to be put-out, but she can see right through me.

Spending time with my mother like this is fantastic. I didn't realize how much I miss just being around her. She is so full of life, so full of excitement. She finds the joy and beauty in everything, and I find her attitude contagious.

I collapse in my bed that night, completely worn out from the day's activities. Only then do I realize Edward never called this morning. I call him, but like the night before, he doesn't pick up. So I repeat the same pattern and wait five minutes before calling again - still no answer. I set the phone on the nightstand, determined to wait another few minutes before trying again, but I fall asleep before I place the third call.

On Tuesday morning, I wake up to discover one missed call and a virtually dead battery. Before the phone completely dies, I manage to send Edward a text.

Sorry I missed u. Fell asleep & forgot 2 plug in phone. Will call u when I recharge battery ~B

Tuesday is filled with more beach time, more sightseeing, and more of Renee's "tropical adventures." We parasail over shark infested waters and dine on boiled shrimp and crab during a sunset dinner cruise. As I lean against the ship's railing and watch the sun sink below the horizon, the sky transforming from blue to pink to orange, I wonder what Edward is doing and if he's missing me as much as I miss him.

That night I have a hard time falling asleep. I've gotten so used to sleeping with Edward that I find it hard to go back to sleeping alone. It doesn't help that he hasn't returned my calls from this afternoon.

We spend Wednesday at the ballpark. Renee and I hit the gift shop before the game, snatching up matching black and gold t-shirts, pennants, pom-poms, and giant foam fingers proclaiming the Jacksonville Suns to be #1. I pick out a baseball cap for Edward. I've never seen him wear one, but the distressed gray cap with the ambiguous "JS" initials looks like his style.

Our seats are right behind the dugout, and during the seventh inning stretch Phil steps out and tosses a ball to me signed by the whole team. Using the camera on my phone, Renee snaps a picture of me decked out in every piece of Suns gear we bought, holding the autographed ball, with the infield in the background. I send it to Edward with a text.

Giving up dance. Gonna be a mascot instead ~ B

The game is a shutout, the Suns beating the opposing team 7-0. I'm sure my exceptional cheering skills had something to do with the easy victory. We celebrate with pizza at The Mellow Mushroom, eating at a large table with several of Phil's teammates and their families.

I text Edward when I get back to the house, thinking if I give him fair warning we won't play phone-tag again tonight.

Just getting back from dinner. Taking shower. Will call u in 30min ~ B

It doesn't work, and after two unanswered calls I give up.

Call me, please. I miss you. I don't care how late ~ B

Determined not to miss him again, I place the phone on the pillow right next to my head.

Several hours later, I wake with a start as the phone buzzes, the screen lighting up my dark room. I squint at the blinding caller ID.

3:28 a.m.

Edward

I groan a "hello" into the receiver.

"Hey, beautiful." My annoyance at the late hour melts away the second I hear his voice.

"Hey, yourself," my voice sounds raspy from sleep and all the screaming at the ballpark today.

"I was just thinking about you so I was like… Hey! Why don't I give twinkle-toes a call? Yeah? Sooo here I am."

I prop myself up on my pillow. "Edward, are you drunk?"

"Psh! Maaaaybe. Why? Is that going to be a problem for you, princess?"

I flinch, surprised by his harsh tone. "Um, no. What did you do tonight?"

"Jazzzzz took me – took me out to - to cheer me up."

He's completely hammered. "Wow. OK."

"Look, you don't have to talk to me. I can find something else to -"

"No, no. Don't go." I don't want to admit I'm a little hurt by his attitude. Actually, I could probably tell him exactly how I feel, but judging by his slur he wouldn't remember.

He sighs into the phone, and I can picture him running his fingers through his disheveled hair.

I try to keep my tone light and friendly. "Did you guys go out?"

"Yeah, um… Alice knows a, ah, bouncer and… went to this club. They all have to be twenty-one, so we got inside we were just assumed that we were old enough… for the bar."

I can tell he is fighting to form coherent sentences, and I comprehend most of what he's saying, so I just mutter, "that's cool."

Edward remains silent for several minutes. This is getting weird.

"Where is Jazz now?" I ask.

"Home."

"And why did Jazz feel the need to cheer you up?" I know the answer to this one; I'm just setting him up to tell me how much he misses me.

"Cause I had a fight with Carlisle."

"What?"I sit straight up and flip on the lamp next to my bed. "Why did you fight?"

"The guy's a dick. What the fuck does he know anyway, huh?" There's a crash in the background as if something fell to the floor.

"Edward? What's going on? I don't understand. What happened with Carlisle?"

"Jazz is a genius, did you know that? Pssssh. Carlisle can't tell me what to do."

"Ah, yes he can. He's your father and he -"

"He is not my father!" Edward erupts into the phone.

My mouth falls open. He has never spoken to me like this before, ever. I'm instantly grateful this conversation is happening over the phone, as I'm sure my face reveals just how frightened I am of him at this moment.

Edward lets out another deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry. I - I drank too much. I should go… before I say something I'll regret." He mumbles that last part so low I almost don't understand him.

"OK," I whisper, still shocked by his outburst.

"I'll call you… later." The line goes dead. He doesn't even say goodbye.

EPOV

Sunday morning, after Bella leaves for the airport and Carlisle confronts me, I lock myself in my room and don't come out for the rest of the day. I replay the entire conversation in my head, trying to find the flaws in his argument. But no matter how I attempt to discredit his reasons why Bella is better off without me, I can't.

When Bella calls later that night, I cradle the phone in my hands and stare at it as it rings. I don't answer as I have no idea what to say. When she calls back a few minutes later, my resolve slips and I accept the call. I realize my mistake the second I hear her voice, as the pain in my chest becomes almost unbearable.

I don't sleep at all that night, and I use that excuse to justify why I don't call her back in the morning like I said I would. I continue to avoid her calls for the next two days, and I don't reply to her texts.

In a moment of weakness, I slip and dial her number in the middle of the night Tuesday. Had she answered, I would have told her how much I love I her and how I can't be without her. I would have begged her to give it all up for me.

It isn't until Wednesday night that someone attempts to beat down my locked door.

"Open up, ass wipe," Jazz calls from the other side.

I don't move.

"I know you're in there," he yells, continuing to pound on the door.

When it becomes clear that he isn't going to leave, I lug myself off the bed and flip the latch on the doorknob. I flop down on the bed again as Jazz lets himself in.

"I've been calling you for two days," he says, clearly annoyed. "Your phone broke or something?" He walks over to my desk, picks up my phone, and tosses it at me. Pulling out the chair, he sits in it backwards and folds his arms across the top.

He studies my un-showered, unshaven, disheveled appearance for a second. "You look like shit."

I roll my eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"Are you sick?"

"No."

He appraises me again for a long moment before his eyes grow wide. "Dude, are you using again?"

"No."

"Fuck, man, if you get caught they're gonna send your ass to jail."

"I'm not using, asshole. And even if I was, it's none of your fucking business."

Jazz flinches. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I just stare at him.

He stands up suddenly. "Alright, that's it. Get dressed. We're getting out of here."

"No."

"Yes. Something is fucking wrong with you, and I'm gonna get some answers. Get in the shower."

"Fuck you."

"Edward, you can talk to me or I'm going to - "

I call his bluff. "What? What are you gonna do?"

"Fuck you, man. I'm your best friend. I know something is wrong. You look like you're two seconds from slitting your wrists."

"The thought had crossed my mind," I mumble. Jazz's eyes grow wide at my admission.

Shit, I didn't mean for him to hear that. The last thing I need is for him to run to Carlisle tell him I'm suicidal or some shit. I figure I better play along with his lets-hug-it-out crap for tonight, and then I can go back to my life… or whatever this is.

We head downtown, and Alice's friend gets us into some club I'd never heard of. After three very large, very strong drinks, I tell Jasper everything. Everything. I probably tell him more than I should, but the alcohol takes over and I have no control of what spills out of my mouth. Jazz listens intently, but as he matches me drink for drink, his advice probably isn't very sound.

"Fuck him," he slurs. "He can't tell you what to do. You love her. You should be with her."

It sounds easy enough when he puts it that way. After six or seven more drinks, I'm convinced Jazz is a fucking genius.

I drink to drown everything I've been thinking, everything I've been feeling. But it isn't working. So I drink more - and more. I would drink myself into a coma if Jazz didn't drag my sorry ass back home.

I wake up the next morning – no, afternoon – with the worst hangover of my life. I deserve it. I did it to myself on purpose.

A vague memory of talking to Bella flashes through my mind, and I check my phone to verify if I actually placed the call or just imagined it in my drunken haze last night.

Shit.

Even though I don't recall what was said, the late hour in which I placed the call is reason enough for her to be annoyed with me. I consider calling to apologize, but I hesitate. Maybe it's best if she stays upset with me. Knowing what's coming, it might make it easier if she's angry with me to start with.

She's surely going to hate me in the end anyway.

I groan and reach for my phone, typing out a quick text.

I'm sorry~ E

Author's Note:

Busted! There you have it ~ Daddy C knows!

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